


Twenty Minute Love Affair

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: Kurtoberfest 2015 [35]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, College, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, M/M, romantic situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: While volunteering as a model for a student photo project, Kurt discovers last minute that he'll be working opposite the photographer's "friend", Sebastian Smythe. During the course of an uncomfortably intimate shoot, Kurt finds out the details of Sebastian's mysterious twenty minute relationship...and exactly how deeply the wounds from that brief affair run.This was written for Kurtoberfest 2015 and the prompt "nightmares" (the concept more than the representation of any actual nightmares) Assumes that Kurt and Blaine didn't get back together after Blaine cheated.





	Twenty Minute Love Affair

“No.”

Kurt had only walked three steps into the studio, but after seeing the two men he’d be working with – one in particular, rolling up the sleeves of his baby pink button-down shirt and undoing the top button to his collar, who smirks the second they lock eyes – he turns on his heel and heads for the door.

“Ah, so I see you’ve already met Sebastian,” Trevor, the photographer, says without having to see Kurt’s scowl. Trevor looks the way Kurt once imagined that all SoHo artistic types would look before he moved to New York – razor cut sandy brown hair, white tunnels through the lobes of both ears, navy blue painted nails, retro black Buddy Holly glasses, vintage John Lennon t-shirt tucked into distressed blue jeans and secured around narrow hips by a worn, brown leather belt. He doesn’t seem too surprised by Kurt’s objection to working with Sebastian. He continues his way around the room, adjusting lights and screens to focus a white glow on a single, backless, wooden bench set in front of a red muslin backdrop.

Trevor doesn’t seem discouraged at the prospect of Kurt storming out the door, but he does seem tired. Kurt wonders how many other models have bailed on him today. From the sign-up sheet, he expected to see at least a dozen other faces.

“Yeah, I have,” Kurt says, hanging out in the doorway, guilt prompting him to stay. “He tried to steal my boyfriend… _unsuccessfully_ , I might add.”

Sebastian snickers.

Kurt glares at Sebastian, unamused.

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“What a coincidence. Join the club.” Trevor walks by Sebastian on his way to another set of lights and swats him on the shoulder as he passes. “I’m having jackets made up. They’re going to have a picture of his face on the back with an arrow going through it. Oh, and glitter.”

“Well, in that case, I wear a size small,” Kurt quips, changing his mind, but he tries not to be too obvious about it. He drops his bag inside the door, but has yet to remove his coat. “But I might want to buy an extra one to throw darts at.”

“You know…” a relieved Trevor looks up from his camera’s viewfinder to toss Kurt a wink, “I had the same idea.”

“Uh, you guys know I’m standing right here,” Sebastian interjects, rubbing his abused upper arm.

“I think we’ve managed to overlook it,” Kurt says, unbuttoning his coat.

Trevor laughs.

“Come on, Kurt. I…” Sebastian regards Kurt. Kurt, shedding his coat, waits for him to finish. But Sebastian shakes his head and says, “You know, on second thought, I don’t care.” He turns to his friend setting up the remainder of his camera equipment. “Trevor…Trev…” Sebastian implores with arms open. “Come on, man. You and I have been best friends since middle school.”

“Yeah, and that mattered _so_ much when I caught you trying to stick your tongue down Michael’s throat?”

“How can you still be sore about that? If you ask me, I did you a favor,” Sebastian argues. His conceited tone makes Kurt bristle. If they had ever become friends after Sebastian’s supposed “change of heart” this could be the two of them having this same conversation about Blaine.

It took a long time for Kurt to forgive Sebastian (in his head) for trying to break up him and Blaine. But had Kurt paid a little more attention to the way Blaine acted during that whole situation, he may have saved himself some heartache later on.

Trevor stops what he’s doing and puts his hands on his hips, fingertips thrumming against his leather belt. Kurt, hanging up his coat on a rack in the corner, thinks he’s about to see Trevor go postal on Sebastian, but, to Kurt’s surprise, he simply shrugs.

“Fair enough,” he says. Kurt hopes that Trevor will launch into a summation so that Kurt can get caught up, but the subject drops. “But, aside from an apparently virulent strain of the bird flu, _you’re_ the reason why five of my guys have walked out, so I’m beginning to like you less.”

“What _are_ we doing exactly?” Kurt asks, curiosity brimming in every cell of his body about so many different things, he needs a clear answer to at least one of them. “Are these pornographic photos? Because I’m all for volunteering to help a fellow student in need, but I didn’t sign up to get naked with _anyone_ , not to mention Sebastian Smythe.”

“Don’t worry, Kurt,” Trevor says. Sebastian grimaces at how smooth and soothing his voice becomes for Kurt’s benefit. “It’s nothing like that. I’m re-creating traditional romance novel covers using what might be considered non-traditional models.”

Both Kurt and Sebastian look at Trevor with a comical mixture of shock and disgust. As frustrating and exhausting as this endeavor has already been, Trevor manages to crack a smile.

“Uh…” Sebastian starts.

“…no,” Kurt finishes for him.

“Oh, come on, guys.” Trevor isn’t pleading. He’s too exasperated at this point to plead. “You’ll stay completely clothed. It’s just the poses you’re recreating. Sebastian, you owe me,” Trevor declares with a pointed look, “and Kurt, I’ll pad your volunteer hours.”

Kurt raises an interested brow. “By how much?”

“Double.”

Trevor jumped in with that answer, so Kurt chews on Trevor’s offer. He has fifteen volunteer hours left total he’s required to complete unless he wants to take another elective, and the only ones available at this late date are mime and interpretive dance – neither of which he’s too thrilled about. Trevor originally offered him two volunteer hours even though he swore Kurt’s assigned session would only take one. Four doesn’t seem much better for the price of getting cuddly with Sebastian, even _with_ clothes on. But with the added stress of his internship and work, Kurt needs all the volunteer hours he can get so he can be done with his commitment.

“Triple?” Trevor asks plaintively when Kurt doesn’t respond.

It’s not the offer that makes Kurt concede, but the look on Trevor’s face that pretty much says, “ _If you don’t do this, I’m screwed_.”

Kurt sighs. With NYADA’s excessive end-of-semester project requirements, he may end up in the same boat someday, and if he does, he prays that karma will be kind. “Deal.”

“Yes!” Trevor cheers. “And what about you, Smythe?” he asks harshly to remind Sebastian that he owes him one, probably more than one at this point if he’s the reason Trevor is in a bind.

When Kurt turns to Sebastian for his answer, Sebastian isn’t looking at Trevor; he’s looking at Kurt, a glimmer in his eye.

Kurt can’t read his look, but he doesn’t like it.

“Oh, I’m in,” he says, undoing one more button on his collar.

This time, Kurt rolls his eyes.

Trevor claps his hands together. “Great! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Kurt! And Sebastian?”

Sebastian’s odd smile becomes smug for his friend, waiting for an equal show of gratitude. “Yeah?”

“Don’t fuck this up.”

Sebastian’s smile fizzles like a leaky balloon.

“Yeah, whatever,” he groans, approaching the bench where he assumes they’ll be posing. “So, what’s up with the colors? Pink? Red? _Yellow_?” He gestures to the lemon hued dress shirt Kurt uncovered when he took off his coat. “Is your project for the color-blind?”

“The pictures are going to be in black and white. So all of these colors” – Trevor makes a sweeping motion with his hand – “will show up in various shades of grey. The finished product will look more natural if I don’t have to touch it up later through Photoshop, especially the lighting, which can make or break these types of pictures.”

“Well, as is, it’s a little hard on the eyes.” Sebastian blinks, putting a hand over his brow to shield himself from the garishness.

“I, for one, applaud you for going all out for authenticity,” Kurt remarks.

“Even if right now we look like sorbet,” Sebastian adds.

Kurt finds himself chuckling, which brings an interesting grin to Sebastian’s face.

But Kurt feels that grin affect him, and he wants to move away from it. “So, uh, which book cover are we recreating?”

“You guys get to do this one.” Trevor walks to his camera bag and pulls out a wrinkled paperback, the title _Moonchild_ printed in sparkly, pearlescent white letters across the top. The couple on the cover are locked in a stereotypical, romance novel embrace (because, in Kurt’s experience, there’s really only three), with the muscular hero - white shirt completely torn open in front to reveal his smooth, tan, hairless chest - supporting the busty blonde heroine - scantily clad in an 18 th century inspired chemise that’s bursting at the laces, one shoulder strap sliding down her creamy white flesh - over one arm, leaning in for a kiss while she faints dead away from the passion swelling inside her heaving bosom.

Kurt stares at it, overlooking the historical inaccuracies of their attire as the overall image burns into his retinas like the tragic aftermath of a bloody train wreck, envisioning himself in the same pose with Sebastian until he feels ready to hurl.

Sebastian takes the book and examines its condition – the bent cover, the earmarked pages, the spine creased so badly there’s no making out the title along its face. “So, Trev…romance novels, huh?”

“It’s my mom’s,” Trevor explains, not sounding the least bit ashamed. Sebastian decides that teasing him won’t be worth the energy, but he adds an obligatory, “Sure it is,” before he starts to get into position. “You’re on the bottom, princess.”

“I should have seen that one coming,” Kurt mutters.

“Not that I’m agreeing with Sebastian, because I _don’t_ ,” Trevor stresses, “but for this particular book cover, Kurt, you portraying the female half of the equation matches the aesthetic.”

“And why’s that?” Kurt asks as he lies down on the bench, keeping up the conversation to distract him from the fact that he’s about to be straddled by Sebastian Smythe.

“Because Corrinne is smart, witty, strong, with a will of iron, and filled with untapped magical power.”

“Hmm…I think I can handle that,” Kurt replies.

“Whereas Mark…” Trevor cuts off as he adjusts his tripod. Sebastian, climbing over Kurt, gives Trevor a look.

“What about Mark?” he asks.

“Mark’s an asshole.”

“ _Nice,”_ Sebastian hisses _._ “I thought you said it was your _mom’s_ book.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t read it.”

Kurt, spread out uncomfortably on the bench beneath Sebastian, grumbles, “Can you _please_ hurry up? I want to get this over with.”

Sebastian snaps his gaze down, remembering Kurt beneath him. He takes in Kurt’s wrinkled brow and put-off frown, and concurs. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Sebastian, I need you to put an arm around Kurt’s lower back and lean in like you’re going to kiss his neck. And Kurt, you need to sort of rise up to meet him, but with your face tilted away. You know, the eternal struggle between your body and heart wanting something that your mind knows you shouldn’t?”

“You mean like how my body and heart want to projectile vomit, but my mind doesn’t want to ruin a perfectly good Ralph Lauren shirt?” Kurt asks.

“Exactly. And Sebastian? Can you lose the bling? I’m getting some serious light flares.”

“What? You mean you don’t want to be the J. J. Abrams of the soft porn industry?”

“Not particularly, no." 

Sebastian removes the watch – a gold Rolex – from his left wrist. Kurt watches in shock as Sebastian tosses it aside, across the room. What could be a ten thousand dollar or more designer watch, and he tossed it like a Frisbee. Kurt doesn’t hear it land, or crack, so, with any luck, it landed on something soft.

 _What a shame,_ Kurt thinks, _that something that costs the same amount as half a semester at NYADA (sans books, room, and board), sits on Sebastian’s wrist and he doesn’t even appreciate it. He simply threw it away._

It seems like an allegory, but Kurt ignores that and focuses on altering his position to mimic the damsel on the book cover while keeping an eye on, and his distance from, the guy looming creepily above him. Sebastian winds a stiff arm underneath Kurt’s back, muscles locked so tight that Kurt thinks lying on the wood bench would be more comfortable. He can’t see the expression on Sebastian’s face from this angle, but he hears the man grinding his teeth. And with that, the two of them hold that position, along with their breath.

“Uh…guys?” Trevor glances up from his viewfinder. “Can you possibly look _less_ like you want to murder one another? You’re supposed to be in love.”

“You see, now you’re asking too much,” Kurt says.

“Hey, I can handle it if you can,” Sebastian retorts.

Kurt scoffs. “Yeah, well, it might help if you’ve actually ever _been_ in love.”

“Just proves how shit your memory is,” Sebastian says, encroaching on Kurt’s personal space as the photograph dictates. “I told you, I met the love of my life on the dance floor at _Scandals_.”

“Sebastian, can you get even closer? There’s a considerable gap between your guys’ bodies, and, you know, we kind of want Kurt in the shot…”

“Ah, yes” – Kurt shifts his seat on the rigid, narrow bench to give Sebastian room to further cover him – “your mysterious _twenty minute_ man. But if I remember the story correctly, you guys broke up.”

“Yup” – Sebastian sits up higher on his one bent knee to keep from blocking the light throwing shadows on Kurt’s face – “but I never told you _why_ we broke up.”

“I always figured it was a question of judgment.” Kurt cranes his head back at an impossible slant. “He sobered up enough to realize what a humongous douche you are.”

“Close” – Sebastian laughs an honest-to-God, good-natured laugh, moving again till his lips brush Kurt’s neck. Kurt plays along, arching his spine and tilting his head further, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“That’s…that’s perfect,” Trevor says from outside their intimate circle of insults. “Just hold that pose.”

“Well, are you going to let me in on the big reveal?” Kurt asks through unmoving lips, not wanting to talk and mess up the shot. The sooner they move on to the next pose, the better, especially considering how not horrible it feels to have Sebastian on top of him, holding him like this, his lips a hair’s breath away from one of the most sensitive spots on Kurt’s neck.

“If you must know,” Sebastian says, employing the same stage-whisper method of speech, “he had cancer. Some kind of uber-aggressive form of pancreatic cancer. Within a week of finding it, it spread like crazy, and as it turned out, he didn’t have too long to live. He didn’t want to put me through that.”

Kurt’s eyes fly open, that admission nearly knocking him out of his pose. “I…I didn’t know,” Kurt says. “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” Sebastian buries his head in Kurt’s neck – for the photograph, Kurt tells himself. Not because he’s hiding his face. But Kurt’s heart drops when he feels Sebastian sigh.

“That was absolutely fabulous, guys. You see, I knew you two had chemistry.”

Kurt looks at the man straddling his hips as Sebastian rises in stages – first his head, then his eyes. Sebastian catches Kurt watching him, and immediately looks away.

“Sure you did,” Sebastian says, lowering Kurt gently to the bench. It’s not until Kurt’s back slides against the wood that he recognizes how tenderly Sebastian handled him.

If they had been doing this a few years ago, in their high school days, he’s certain Sebastian would have just dropped him.

“If you guys don’t mind, I want to try just one more. Kurt, I’ll toss in a few extra hours. Whaddya say?”

“Why not?” Sebastian answers first, climbing off the bench. “I’ve got nowhere important to be.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, watching as Sebastian strolls over to the window, running his hands through his hair and then locking his fingers together behind his head…like he needs something to hold on to. “I’ve got time.”

“Great. Take five while I strike the set. I want to do something more contemporary, something like _When Harry Met Sally_ meets _Love, Actually_ , and play with a bit of movement. Here’s the general idea…” Trevor keeps talking, but Kurt stops paying attention. Sebastian isn’t either, staring out the window, head tilted toward the skyline. Kurt watches him, watches him breathe in deep and, from the reflection in the glass, close his eyes. Kurt didn’t expect this. When Sebastian had mentioned the man he met at _Scandals_ , it seemed like an anecdote. It didn’t seem important, and that’s one of the things that always bothered Kurt about Sebastian – the apathetic way he seemed to regard love.

But it seems that that one anecdote might be the story behind the boy Kurt spent so much time hating, and Kurt wants to hear it.

Trevor rolls down a new backdrop printed with a cityscape, blurred as if it was shot through a fogged window – Paris, Kurt realizes, when he sees the fuzzy outline of the Eiffel Tower off in the distance.

“Kurt?” Trevor pulls Kurt from his contemplation, leading him to his mark, and Sebastian walks up behind without prompting. “Okay, for this photograph, we’re going to have the pair of you slow dancing.”

“Let me guess? Sebastian’s going to lead,” Kurt teases, then waits for Sebastian to respond with his own punchline.

He doesn’t.

“You guys can decide who leads, but it might be nice if Kurt had a turn.”

“No, that’s fine,” Kurt says when Sebastian remains uncharacteristically quiet. He’d lobbed Sebastian a perfect opening for one of his signature sarcastic remarks, but he didn’t take it. “I’m okay with him leading.”

Sebastian shoots Kurt a confused look, but doesn’t do anything more noteworthy than shrug. “Sure. I can lead.”

“Al-righty then,” Trevor says, eyes shifting curiously between them. “Well, just, you know, get started, do your thing, and let’s watch the magic happen.”

Kurt and Sebastian stand inside a white ring of light. Kurt stares at Sebastian; Sebastian stares at his feet. He doesn’t move to take Kurt’s hand, or to put an arm around his waist. Sebastian is normally so aggressive – with his unfiltered remarks, voicing his opinions without an invitation, his over-the-top schemes. He seems to have a witty comeback and a loophole to get a foot up in any situation. But this time he seems a little…lost. Kurt tries to catch Sebastian’s eyes, but they’re narrowed like spotlights on the ground. From behind the lights and the camera, music begins to play from Trevor switching on his iPod to set the mood.

Kurt slips his hand inside Sebastian’s and steps forward. He takes Sebastian’s other hand and moves it to his waist. When Sebastian finally looks at him, blank and pensive, Kurt smiles. It’s taking Kurt time, but he’s trying to let go, forget the past and open his mind to the possibility that he misunderstood Sebastian. That there’s another part of him hidden behind the snark and the cynicism, something else behind his eyes that this story about his _twenty minute man_ might unlock.

Kurt’s the only one of them dancing at this point, but he doesn’t lead. He just sways in time to the rhythm in the hopes that Sebastian will pick up and continue…which he does, pulling Kurt in to his guarded embrace.

It’s strong and comforting.

A little too comforting.

Kurt still has one or two open wounds from his break up with Blaine. He doesn’t know if he’d want Sebastian to be the man to fill them.

“So, what did you and your twenty minute man _do_?” Kurt asks, worried for all of three seconds that he might be prying. “Why was he so special?”

“First off, his name was Ian,” Sebastian answers, clearing a heaviness from his throat.

“Ian,” Kurt repeats, missing the way the name tugs down on Sebastian’s mouth.

“Yes. And we didn’t do much more than dance together for a majority of the night.”

“The way you danced with _Blaine_?” Kurt can’t help that dig. He’s never properly torn Sebastian a new one for the part he played in Kurt’s senior year angst, though, admittedly, now might not be the time.

“Uh…no,” Sebastian says with the slightest hint of guilt. “Actually, more the way I’m dancing with you now.”

“A-ha.” Kurt feels Sebastian’s arm around his waist tighten – not painfully the way it felt on the bench, but protectively, and Kurt rests his head on Sebastian’s shoulder. “And what made you fall in love with him.”

“His voice. His smile. His laugh.” Sebastian’s chuckle echoes in his chest. “The way he blew me off when I tried to get him into the bathroom. The fact that he called me an uncultured walnut.” Sebastian sighs. “The way he gave me a second chance. The way he looked at me…”

“And how did he look at you?”

Kurt peeks up. A cast of bittersweet covers Sebastian’s face. Not a shadow from the lights, or from the strobing flash, but a sadness obscuring a happier memory underneath.

“He looked at me like…he could love me forever.”

Sebastian rests his chin in Kurt’s hair, and Kurt can’t think of another question to ask. It wouldn’t be right. Sebastian is obviously hurting. But along with that, there’s a moment evolving here that they’re sharing. Kurt doesn’t want to see it obliterated by an insensitive question.

Kurt and Sebastian don’t notice that Trevor has ceased giving them direction. The first song ends and the second song begins, but Trevor doesn’t stop them. He snaps off picture after picture while they dance holding each other, from time to time gazing at one another. Kurt searches Sebastian’s face for a clue to what he’s thinking, but he’s certain that Sebastian, staring into his eyes, sees someone else.

The third song goes by before Trevor says anything.

“Guys…” Trevor turns off the music at the start of the next song. Kurt expects the sadness to lift immediately from Sebastian’s face once the music stops, but it lingers, seems the leave deep indents in the lines on his face. “These pictures are incredible. Sebastian, man, I don’t know what you did to get that expression out of him, but that was perfect.”

It’s quicker than quick the way Sebastian’s expression morphs, like something clicking back into place, the wistful look in his eyes disintegrating, touched by the rise of his cheeks, the curl of his grin. “Well, Trev, you said I owed you one. I did whatever it took to get the job done.”

Kurt’s face transforms, too, just as fast – fast enough to sting - his cheeks turning a splotchy brick red, his jaw dropping to his yellow shirt, his heart flooding with the vitriol of their conjoined past. “You tricked me!” he yelps.

“Yeah,” Sebastian says with a hiccup. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Kurt shakes his head, grinning hard enough to make his face hurt. He should be pissed, part of him wants to be pissed, but he can’t be, because aside from the fact that this has been one of his more fun (and easier) volunteer assignments (being the dunkee in the dunking booth at the NYADA open house and combined cirque-themed mid-semester festival ranking as one of the worst), it was also kind of…nice. Sweet. He doesn’t feel like Sebastian pulled the wool over his eyes, even if he kind of did. Kurt is a hopeless romantic. That’s been one of his major defining characteristics all throughout high school (even if now it’s attenuated a bit). He kind of walked into it. “You almost had me going there for a second.”

“Yeah, well, you’re pretty damn gullible. It wasn’t all that difficult.”

“I knew something was off about your story,” Kurt says, and yet, it doesn’t sit well with him saying that. Because the only thing off about that story was that it came from Sebastian Smythe. But other things seemed too on the nose about everything Sebastian said. Those little details that Sebastian made important – the man’s eyes, his smile, the way he looked at him…

Sebastian might be a good dancer and a decent singer, but Kurt never pegged him for a master thespian. Could he really have been making all that up?

Kurt stops laughing as his mind starts working, causing a pause in conversation that becomes awkward.

“Well, I have to get.” Sebastian strides across the studio and grabs his coat in a hurry, like he needs to get out of there even though he _did_ say he had nowhere else important to be. He doesn’t even stick an arm through the sleeve competently before he heads for the door. “See ya round, Kurt.”

“Yeah. See ya,” Kurt says, confused by the sentiment. Why would Sebastian ever want another occasion to see Kurt? Not that Kurt would mind. Sebastian isn’t as much of an asshole now as he was, though that might have been solely for Trevor’s benefit. Kurt and Sebastian could bump into one another on the street and bam! Business as usual.

“Well, that was…odd,” Trevor admits, voicing what Kurt is thinking. “Thank you so much again, Kurt. You are a life saver. Really.”

“No problem.” Kurt shakes Trevor’s outstretched hand, deciding to let the puzzle of the last hour peter away and get back to his life. He has his shift to make at the diner, and a paper to write. He doesn’t have time to get sidetracked. Kurt reaches for his coat off the rack when he spots a gold object glittering from atop a field of black cushions. Kurt picks it up, but he knows right away what it is and who it belongs to.

“Sebastian forgot his watch,” Kurt says, turning the timepiece over in his hand. He doesn’t know why he’s looking at it. He’s seen a Rolex before. Maybe he’s looking for an inscription. After listening to that story, even if it was bullshit, Kurt is curious about the man who spun it. He didn’t know there would ever come a day when he would be curious about the inner workings of Sebastian Smythe. Kurt has a feeling that this is going to become a life lesson, he thinks ironically, like curiosity killing the cat. “Are you going to see him again anytime soon?”

“Uh…no,” Trevor says. “Not this week, I don’t think. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He’s probably got seven of those.”

“I’m going to see if I can catch him.” Kurt figures he can use returning that watch as an excuse to see if Sebastian is as full of it as he claimed. Kurt could possibly ask him out for coffee so he can elaborate? Did Kurt really want to do that?

He’s not sure, but he’ll play it by ear and see what happens.

Kurt races down the stairs from the studio, three full flights, but he doesn’t see Sebastian along the way. He must have been racing to get out of there. Kurt isn’t _that_ far behind.

Kurt blows through the door and out onto the sidewalk. It’s after five o’clock (he knows from looking at Sebastian’s watch), so there’s plenty of foot traffic, tons of heads bowed over cell phones, so it’s easy to catch Sebastian’s 6’ 2” figure, standing straight and bustling among them. Kurt takes off after him before he gets the chance to blend in with the crowd. Kurt is only a few feet behind. He can catch up.

Sebastian looks like he’s heading for the subway. He’ll be traveling uptown so Kurt has to try and catch him before then. Sebastian crosses the street against the light, and he transforms. His back bows, his head hangs, his shoulders slouch. Kurt looks through gaps between people and sees Sebastian reach into his pocket to pull out his phone. He begins to slow. People bump into him, uttering curses and swerving dramatically around him as he scrolls through something on his screen. He eventually pulls to the side, ducking into a doorway while he dials a number.

Sebastian doesn’t see Kurt coming. Kurt uses that to his advantage, inching up on him until he can find a space to insert himself. He makes his way to a recess and wedges in. It doesn’t offer anything in the way of shelter. If Sebastian looks to his left, he’ll see Kurt for sure. But it’s close enough that Kurt can actually hear ringing over Sebastian’s phone.

A person on the other end answers. Sebastian’s head pops up. He stares straight ahead, stunned for half-a-second, like he didn’t expect anyone to pick up.

“Hey…Monica?”

“Is that…is that you, Sebastian?” Kurt hears a feminine voice ask.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t think anyone would answer.”

“No, no, it’s all good,” the woman says in that half-whisper that accompanies rolling out of bed. “Long time, no hear from.”

“Sorry about that.” Sebastian puts a hand to his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut, his face betraying emotions he’s not letting his voice mirror. “I meant to call before. A lot of times, actually. It’s just…

“No, it’s alright. I understand. It was a rough time for all of us.” She exhales, exhausted even though she’s waking up. “It’s _still_ rough.”

“Uh, yeah…” Sebastian agrees, uneasy. “Hey, Mon? I don’t mean to cut things short, but would it be alright if I…”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure,” she yawns. “Go ahead. I won’t pick up this time.”

“Thanks, Mon.”

“We really miss you, Sebastian.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian nods. “I miss you guys, too.”

Monica cuts off first, probably so Sebastian doesn’t have to. Sebastian waits a second, then re-dials the number. It doesn’t ring, going straight to voicemail.

_Hello, hello, hello, you beautiful sons-of-bitches! You’ve reached Ian’s phone, which you should know because, well hey, you dialed the number. Go ahead and leave a message after the beep…or not, you know. No b.d. I won’t judge. And if this is Sebastian…I love you, man._

Sebastian hangs up, waits, then dials again. He doesn’t smile as he listens to the message, his face utterly impassive. He calls the number a third time, then a fourth. During the fifth, his mouth begins to pull, a tense dimple marking his cheeks. He sniffs, runs a hand across his cheekbone underneath his eye.

After the sixth call, he pockets his phone, taking his time slipping it back in his pocket as though he’s expecting it to ring, and Kurt wonders how many times he’s done that. How many times he’s thought his phone would ring.

How many times he hoped Ian would call.

Sebastian pats the pocket with the phone safely inside, but he doesn’t wake out of his stupor. He flips up the collar to his coat and takes off into the crowd, which has gotten considerably thicker since they’ve been standing there.

Kurt steps out from his hiding place and watches a hunched Sebastian hurry down the sidewalk. Gold Rolex in his hand long forgotten, Kurt stays stuck there until Sebastian makes it to the subway and disappears down the steps.

Sebastian wasn’t lying – not before and not now. Whoever this Ian was, Sebastian met him at _Scandals_ and they fell in love. For twenty minutes, they were a couple, and now the man is gone.

And not gone to college, to another state, or even another country.

Dead and gone.

Kurt feels the evening wind blow, picturing the nightmare that must have been for Sebastian. Unfortunately, it’s too easy for Kurt.

“Oh, dear God,” Kurt whispers, clutching the Rolex tight. “Sebastian…”


End file.
